


Bared by You

by coppercaps



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Domestic Violence, F/M, Gaslighting, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:00:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22616791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coppercaps/pseuds/coppercaps
Summary: "Yer mine. We both know tha’ and tha’s all ‘at matters. He’ll find out soon enough an’ when tha’ day comes, I’ll be there for ya."Square fill for Bad Things Happen Bingo, "Domestic Abuse".
Relationships: Chibs Telford/Reader
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627207
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter of this multi chapter square fill for my Bad Things Happen Bingo, square "Domestic Abuse".  
> Not beta'd and English isn't my first language so sorry for any mistakes!

The first thing Y/N noticed as she entered the property of the club’s original charter was the unusual silence that rested over the premises on that summer’s Friday afternoon. No prospects scurrying about the parking lot, not one soul working in the office and not a single motorcycle in sight except for one Harley Davidson that throned majestically in front of the only opened garage gate.  
Y/N approached it curiously, taking in all the details of the high polished machine. Its condition was almost flawless, but the tiny leftovers of deeply embedded dirt in its tyres’ treads as well as the light signs of wear on the leather-covered seat told her that this wasn’t a new bike, but rather a possession of a very diligent owner. The heels of Y/N’s shoes echoed in the empty garage space as she stepped around the motorcycle and crouched down in search of any clues that would hopefully give away who the owner of the Harley was.

“She’s a beauty, ain’t she?”

Losing balance and almost falling right against said beauty, Y/N caught herself last second, startled by the sudden appearance of a person behind her.“Jesus!”, she huffed and stood up to see the person who had allowed themselves to sneak up on her like that.  
“Nah, not quite”, chuckled the man. His accent had given away his identity right away, but actually seeing him was still a treat to the woman’s eyes.

Dressed in heavy leather boots, loose jeans and a grey vest that had his name embroidered over the right side of his chest, Chibs Telford looked as handsome as always. Necklaces made of wooden pearls hung from his neck and arm, and a light, satisfied smile lit up his face as Y/N leant against him, wrapping her arms around his torso for a hug. Chibs didn’t miss the opportunity to wrap one strong arm around her shoulders and place a gentle kiss on her hairline. 

“I’m no beauty salon, but I thought pamperin’ ‘er a wee bit would do ‘er good. Haven’t taken ‘er for a ride in a while.”  
“I didn’t know you have her”, Y/N noted, leaning against Chibs a little more as he signified loosening the embrace. A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he noticed her clinginess, but he was more than happy to oblige and pulled her a little tighter against himself.  
“She’s me go to girl for longer rides. We leave for a run tonight.”

Nodding, Y/N kept her eyes on the bike, appreciating the machine once more while enjoying the continuing embrace and silence.

“How come yer ‘ere, lass? Shouldn’t ya be at work?”, Chibs questioned conversationally, breaking the silence and their embrace as well with another, apologising, kiss upon her head. Stepping around the bike, he picked up the tools, bottles and towel that laid next to it to stashed them away.  
“Took the day off. I worked overtime quite a lot during the last weeks, gotta compensate that somehow.”  
“Don’t they pay ya extra fo’ that?”  
“Nope”, Y/N sighed, “It’s take the day off or leave it.” A nod in understanding.  
“So ya rather spend it ‘ere than with yer boyfriend?”, the older stated more than asked.

Y/N knew that Chibs meant to tease her, yet she couldn’t help the dull feeling of uneasiness bubbling up in her stomach that that statement brought. Gently biting the inside of her lower lip with her front teeth, she tried shaking it off by faking a smile and giving a nod. “Who wouldn’t want to spend their time with a handsome biker?”  
Said biker laughed loudly at that, a snarky remark already on his tongue and ready to pass his lips, until he turned around to see that the light tone in her voice and her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Y/N’s boyfriend was a difficult topic for both of them. While neither Chibs nor Y/N denied that they had more than just friendly feelings for each other, they weren’t being an actual couple, thanks to Dylan, the boyfriend.  
Dylan and her had moved in together three years ago, partly out of economic necessity, partly in an attempt to fix their then two years old relationship that had slowly started to crumble. They had both noticed that their final year at college had them slowly drifting apart, and back in the day, moving in together had sounded like a good idea to attempt finding back to each other again.  
Since staying in Sacramento was nowhere near being affordable for both of them, Charming proofed to be a place where, together, they could settle down without having to work three jobs each to afford the rent.  
The first months went great, but somewhere early into their second year together, Y/N noticed that, to her, Dylan had become more of a friend than a lover she would want to spend her life with. Holding on to the hope that maybe the romantic feelings for Dylan would somehow come back, she didn’t dare thinking about alternatives until she had met Chibs at the bar she was working at on the weekends to make some extra cash. 

Their connection hasn’t started out romantic as love at first sight, neither did he enter the bar and felt instantly drawn to her. The first time they met, Chibs had asked for Jameson and Y/N didn’t hesitate offering him something more high-class instead. The following chat about Whiskey turned into elaborate conversations that filled Y/N’s bland shift with entertainment and lo and behold, the next day, in came the dark-haired biker again, ostensibly just to get more of the finer Whiskey, but again staying long after Y/N had closed the bar. Chance meetings turned into scheduled ones and by the time Y/N noticed it, she had long fallen head over heels for the kind man with the accent as heavy and smooth as honey. It didn’t take Chibs too much time to notice that he found himself in the same condition.

However, breaking up with Dylan to be with Chibs proofed to be difficult for Y/N on two levels.  
Firstly, no one who knew Y/N would ever claim she wasn’t working hard, but her income was barely enough to make ends meet for herself and she didn’t want to be financially depending on Chibs or anyone else for that matter.Secondly, Dylan. It wasn’t that he was oblivious to the state of their relationship, but he held on to it, saying that it was a phase, just a rough patch they would get through if they just stayed together. But when Y/N told him that she saw this differently and that, to her, this relationship stopped being an actual relationship between lovers a while ago, Dylan took up to different methods to “make her realise”, as he called it.

Make her see what her saying that she wasn’t in love anymore made him do.  
Make her understand that she needed him, that she wouldn’t survive without him, end up on the streets without him being there for her.  
Make her feel how much this hurt him.

Dylan suspected that Y/N had another man in her life, but he didn’t know who it was and Y/N made damn sure that it would stay that way until she was capable of finally leaving him. But that included not being completely honest to Chibs as well.

Although they had ended up in bed together quite a bunch of times already, they haven’t gotten more intimate with each other other than kisses, touches and some dirty talking. While technically still being in a relationship, it wouldn’t feel right for Y/N to have sex with another man and that was a level of faithfulness that equally impressed and frustrated the Scot. It wasn’t like Y/N was still sleeping with Dylan and that made things a little more bearable for Chibs.

Thus even more enjoying the moments and small actions of intimacy they shared, Chibs strut over to Y/N, laid two fingers beneath her chin to raise her head and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, prolonging the contact to savour every sensation of it. 

“Yer mine. We both know tha’ and tha’s all ‘at matters. He’ll find out soon enough an’ when tha’ day comes, I’ll be there for ya”, Chibs promised.  
He was aware of the violence that awaited Y/N at home. He had yet to lure the full truth out of her, but the things Y/N told him that Dylan said, combined with the bruises Y/N sometimes couldn’t hide, had him seething. She promised him that she would speak up if things got too bad or if she wanted help, and he held on to that, trusting her to do so.  
Until then, Chibs tried his best not to imagine what else Dylan was doing to her, otherwise he wasn’t sure he would be able to hold back from storming wherever Dylan would be at that moment and choke the living lights out of him. 

“I know. I’m only one pay check away from having enough to get my own place. It will be over soon”, Y/N sighed, not sure whether she was assuring Chibs or herself.  
Pecking her lips, he separated himself from her for a moment, just long enough to rid himself of his work vest and throw it over his toolbox. Not wanting to waste more time apart from her, he quickly faced her again but this time, he went for the back of her thighs to hoist her up. With a surprised squeal, Y/N closed her legs around Chibs’ hips instinctively and wrapped her arms around his neck, hanging onto him while he kicked the button to close the garage gate and walked them into one of the empty rooms in the back of the clubhouse.

“By the way, where is everyone?”  
“Out for tha’ day. Business went well this week so they’re gettin’ themselves some pussy before we head out.”  
“How long will you be gone?”  
“Couple o’ days, should be back by Tuesday.”

Gently, Chibs placed her on the bed and motioned for her to wait there before he turned around. Judging by the sound of his steps, he was heading back to the bar to get them something to drink. 

Patiently waiting on the bed, Y/N watched the tiny particles of dust whirling in the air, faintly reflecting the sunlight that spilled through the blinds as her hand waved aimlessly above her. The corners of her lips were lifted in an absentminded smile, her thoughts slowly calming down and becoming as serene as the atmosphere that had filled the clubhouse of the Sons of Anarchy MC. 

Just as she was ready to close her eyes and doze off, Chibs came back with two cups full of something steaming. He handed her one of the cups and her face lit up as the scent of the cup’s content hit her senses.  
“I know what me lass likes”, he chuckled at her expression, having prepared hot chocolate for her instead of coffee, as for him. Y/N set the cup aside on the bedside table to prevent anything from being spilled as Chibs joined her on the bed. Draping herself over him, she stretched like a lazy cat in the sun and basked in the feeling of his body beneath her, his scent all around her and his fingers gently massaging the base of her skull, easing the tension that always seamed to be there.  
Having her eyes closed in contentment, she missed how his gaze hardened as he noticed a fresh bruise blooming on her shoulder, no longer hidden by the neckline of her shirt that had slipped down some inches.

He weighed mentally whether he should say something about it or not, but decided against it when she reached over to sip the hot chocolate from her cup.  
“Ya said ye almost have tha money for yer own place. Do ye have tha place yet?”, Chibs asked with honest curiosity. With everything that’s been going on with Dylan, straightly moving in together was too big a step for Y/N, but Chibs still wanted to make sure she was close although he would still come to see her just as often even if he had to drive an hour or more each time.  
“Not quite. There is this apartment I found online… It’s not much, but it’s pretty and well maintained. The neighbourhood is good. Safe.”  
Chibs laughed at that, “Don’t ye worry about the neighbourhood, love. These gangs strolling around? They’ll leave ye alone once word gets out tha’ yer with me.”  
“Will it though?”, Y/N questioned. “Do you want to make this… official, once I’m away from Dylan?”

It was hard for Chibs to pinpoint the underlying tone her voice had. While her words and general tone could be interpreted as just a question, Chibs was almost certain that he heard some unease there.

“If ye want me to, aye, lass. I will let the whole damn world kno’ tha’ this wonderful women is wi’ me and under me protection”, he declared, setting his own coffee cup aside to embrace her with both his arms.  
Cuddling further into him, she closed her eyes and released a heavy sigh.  
“And no’ that we got tha’ straight - tell me ‘bout tha’ place.”

Six hours and two ordered pizzas later, Chibs knew everything about the apartment, the current ups and downs at Y/N’s workplace and her favorite TV show that someone had the nerve to cancel, as she explained. Chibs told her about the recent developments of the club and while he made sure to leave out the parts that were on the more high level side of things, Y/N was glad to hear that some of the prospects she had seen working very hard where quite close to being patched in.

The both of them simply enjoyed their time together and didn't realize that they had lost track of time completely. Chibs noticed way too late that the time he had until he needed to meet with his brothers was running short. Not wanting to miss the chance of having Y/N pressed up against him while his trusted Street Glide roared below, he didn’t pay too much attention to the speed limits as he drove her home. One block from her apartment complex, they came to a halt and he assisted her in jumping off his Harley.

"Won't tha dickhead wonder where ya been so long?", Chibs asked, feeling a bit uneasy at the fact that, on a normal work day, Y/N would have been home hours ago.  
“I'll just tell him I worked overtime, don't worry about it. But you promise me to come back in one piece, yeah?”, Y/N whispered through a smile as she pecked him goodbye on the lips.  
“An’ ye promise me ta take care of yerself ‘till I’m back”, he rasped, squeezing her tightly in an embrace.

Y/N nodded as she ruefully pulled away to head home, but turned around last minute to wave him goodbye with a smile. With one last, playful wink, Chibs turned around and drove down the street for two blocks until he suddenly hit the brakes of his motorcycle. Something felt just wrong and a bad feeling filled his chest, gripping his heart like a vice. He turned his head to check whether he could still see Y/N, but she was too far away to be spotted anymore.  
“Shite…”, he murmured as he revved up the engine again and continued his route, hoping that it was just his imagination acting up.

Having arrived at her apartment, Y/N turned the key in the lock carefully to opened the door, but pausing shortly to listen whether Dylan was around already or still at work. As only silence and darkness greeted her, she dared to step into the apartment, closing the door behind her and placing her keys on the slim table next to it. 

She took off her shoes, hung up her jacket and went to stash away her purse as she heard the floor creaking somewhere down the hallway. A sense of uneasiness filled her, at which her thoughts raced. It wasn’t unusual for Dylan to be home at this time and she spent almost every evening with him, so why did she feel so on edge? Hearing footsteps approach, Y/N quickly pulled out her mobile phone to text Chibs, but just as she wanted to hit send, a rough hand grabbed her wrist and had the phone falling to the floor.

Breathing heavily, Dylan simply stared at her while slowly increasing the pressure on her wrist.  
“What’s going on?”, Y/N asked, her voice small but loud enough to be understood in the silence of the apartment.  
“I don’t know Y/N, you tell me. How was work today?”, came the pressed response through a breath heavily smelling of cheap booze. This was dangerous, but nothing Y/N hadn’t experienced before. Drunk Dylan was terrible, but she would manage. She always did.  
With a deep breath, she mustered the energy to prevent herself from shaking and lied, “It was ok. Just… work, you know. Same as always.”  
“I expected you to come home earlier.”  
“Why would you expect that?”

Adjusting his grip on Y/N’s wrist to make sure she couldn’t wind out of it, the brunette man increased the pressure until she started to loose her calmness under the bruising grip.  
“Your boss called. Asked if you could come in after all, since it’s your day off ’n stuff.”  
Dylan stepped forward, closing the last bit of space between them and hovered over Y/N until her back bent in a futile attempt to avoid him. Panic rose up inside her, her heart hammering in her chest.

Before she could react, his second hand grabbed her throat and he thrust her against the wall with a dull bang. Her ears rang upon the impact of her skull with the hard plaster, but she understood each word as Dylan leant in and whispered, eerily calm, against her ear;  
“You’re lying, Y/N. This hurts me, so much. You can’t do that to me. And I need to make sure you understand that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a warning for graphic depictions of violence, in this case, domestic abuse.  
> This chapter consists almost purely of this violence that is performed by the male OC against Y/N / "Reader". Please skip it if that topic makes you uncomfortable (or if you're only interested in finding out whether Chibs will save the day).

Y/N remembered the days she had sat at the dining table, her hands still shaking from all the adrenaline that rushed though her body mere minutes ago. She had tried to knead the tremors away, the thumb of one hand gently pressing and pushing the tense muscles of the other. Her hands, she remembered, were cold and pale. Her fingernails trimmed short. No jewellery.  
While waiting for her body to calm down, she had tried to make sense of what was happening. Of the shouting and screaming, the raised hands that stopped only mere inches away from her. Her senses still anticipated impact although Dylan had long since left the apartment.

Sitting there and wondering at which point they had taken the turn for the worse hadn’t been a singular occurrence. The first time around, Y/N had hoped that this would be a one time thing. A slip of temperament, as Dylan would later call it.  
Months later, she knew that she would find herself there many times more, shaking from the stress and wondering when exactly the charming, witty boy from philosophy class had turned into a man that raised his hand against his partner and blamed her for it. She wouldn’t find an answer to that question, but she would start to question herself eventually as he successfully messed with her head before he left marks on her body.  
Small sores from too tight grasps would turn into faint, finger tip-sized traces, that would bud into hand-sized ones and later bloom to bruises of various sizes and shapes, depending on the mood and alcohol intake Dylan would have had prior.  
Multiple excuses later, people would stop asking and she would stop trying to come up with stories where she got those marks from. Dylan was very clear in what he expected her to do, so she simply tried to stick to it or avoid him altogether, if possible. After all, bruises that weren’t there didn’t raise any eyebrows and no one cared about the invisible ones. No one except Chibs, but he knew about things anyway.

So the first blow that hit her right on the ribs didn’t catch her off guard. It was a good spot, she thought in the back of her mind. Easy to cover, Chibs would barely notice. Not like he could do much about it, with him being gone for a run anyway.  
It still punched the air from her lungs and left her heaving for breath, but it was ok, she decided. Her leaving Dylan, or merely considering that, would probably cause him heartache. It was only natural that he would want her to know how that felt.  
With each breath she fought for, Y/N felt her mind retreating a little more in itself. The first few times that Dylan had become physical with her had been much worse although he had been less violent. Back then, when she wasn’t practiced in simply shutting down her mind and wait for it to be over.

“Do you feel that?”, Dylan asked before delivering the second blow to her ribs, right on the same spot as the first one. “That’s what it feels like. When you stay away from me. Doesn’t it hurt?”

Barely registering the question and yet unsure whether he expected an answer or not, Y/N merely coughed through closed lips, still struggling to fill her lungs with air. Dylan had released her wrist in order to punch her and the hand that was still tightly enclosed around her throat didn’t do much to help with the lack of oxygen. With a shout, the brunette shook the her, demanding an answer. Once again, her head hit the hard wall and a part of her prayed that he would repeat the motion a couple of times more so the sweet darkness of a concussion would free her from reality.  
“I-It hurts”, Y/N rasped breathlessly and Dylan nodded at that, his eyes becoming glassy.  
“Yes… yes it does. You loved me, Y/N. You still do. You just need to remind yourself of it. You need to stop lying to yourself! And to me!”

Dylan, in his alcohol-numbed state, started crying right in front of her. He didn’t weaken his grip around her throat, but he did lean his forehead against hers in a grotesque plead for warmth, sympathy, anything that he sought out and deemed Y/N responsible to provide.  
Realising that, Y/N wrapped her shaking arms around his in an awkward embrace, her consciousness timidly unfolding from the hideout it had created for itself.  
Maybe this was over. Maybe if Dylan saw that she understood, that she hurt, he would leave her alone.

“I am sorry that I hurt you, Dylan”, Y/N whispered and finally, Dylan’s hand retreaded from her squeezed airways, “I am so very, very sorry.”  
He allowed his arms to fall to his sides and rest there for a couple of seconds before he reciprocated her embrace by wrapping them around her, not paying any attention to the hoarse cry that escaped her as he applied pressure to her injured ribs.  
Faking sympathy, Y/N tried to imagine Chibs laying in her arms. She pressed her eyelids shut and, in her mind, replaced the brown hair that tickled her cheek with salt and pepper ones, the smell of cheap booze with motor oil and cigarettes and the harsh, ignorant pressure against her surely bruising ribs with the pain of a gentle hand treating the wounded area. 

They remained in that position for a couple of seconds until Dylan broke away to directly look into Y/N’s eyes, the tips of their noses touching. “Let me show you something, yeah?”, he asked rhetorically before he took her by the shoulders and turned her to the mirror next to the coat hooks. He placed himself behind her so Y/N could get a somewhat good look at herself albeit the lack of light. “What do you see?”

Tears ran down her cheeks and panic crawled up her throat as she didn’t know what he would want to hear. She felt his hand slowly creeping up from her shoulder to the back of her head, playing with the hair there. Usually, it was easy to read Dylan. Y/N had stopped fighting for a place for her point of view a long time ago, having found out that giving him whatever he wanted to hear ended things much faster than trying to argue and make him understand.  
Unsure of what to reply and feeling Dylan getting impatient, Y/N went with the most obvious answer, “I see us.”  
“That’s right”, Dylan confirmed and suddenly, his voice turned from exhausted and tearful to eerily calm. “You are ugly, Y/N. You lie to me. You lie to yourself. Lying is very ugly and I need you to know that you can’t do that to us.”

Before she had a chance to do, say, anything, Dylan grasped her by the hair and smashed her face right into the mirror. A horrified, piercing scream escaped her mouth before she had a chance to even register the searing pain that seemed to burn the right side of her face. It felt like there were flames that slowly ate away her skin and flesh until nothing but bone was left. As if one of the imaginary flames had bitten his hand, Dylan recoiled, pulling his hand back against his chest and mumbling something Y/N couldn’t understand over the screeching noise of pain that echoed in her head as she fell to the floor.

Once again, she fought for breath as a thick liquid ran down her face and over her nose, having her feel like she was about to drown. Too stunned to sit up, Y/N let herself fall on her chest and through the red blur that clouded half of her sight, the faint light of her phone that laid mere inches before her caught her attention.  
Without actively thinking about it, she reached for the device and blindly tapped at it in an attempt to call the one person she knew would come and safe her from who knows how far Dylan would take this.

Her attempts remained futile as a heavy boot stepped on her hand, grinding down on her fingers before she hit the call button.  
Quickly, the boot retreated just to meet her body again as it collided with her stomach. She didn’t get a chance to cry out as Dylan kicked her again and again until she rolled in on herself, her legs and arms trying to shield her chest and stomach. Her deafening scream, full of sharp pain and desperation and fear, was muffled by the soft carpeted floor she buried her bleeding face in in an attempt to get away, to find protection, anything to just make him stop.

Somewhere between audible sobs and silent screams, Y/N registered Dylan picking up her phone. She expected him to explode once again, to shout and scream at her, hit and kick her, but instead, Dylan turned away and walked down the hallway to disappear somewhere. 

Barely able to catch her breath, let alone think somewhat straight, Y/N didn’t notice when Dylan came back a few moments later with something in his hand. Forcefully turning her on her stomach and holding her in place by sitting on the back of her thighs, her so-called boyfriend grabbed her wrists and pinned them down above her. In sheer panic, Y/N started to struggle as Dylan shoved up her shirt and tore at her bra until the fabric ripped under the pressure.  
Suddenly, a sensation that she could only associate with a razor blade ripping through fabric pierced through her shoulder blade and she stopped all movements when a second blow caused another wave of pain at the side where her ribs had already started to turn a deep shade of purple. 

The dull noise of an object hitting the carpeted floor next to her head was followed by Dylan forcing her head to the side to face that object that laid beside her, bearing traces of her blood. A belt with an elaborately formed buckle, sturdy and seemingly sharp on the edges, glistened in the dim streetlight that fell into the small apartment through the blind window next to where Y/N laid.  
“You have two options, Y/N”, Dylan huffed as he let go of her hair and reached for the belt.  
“Either you tell me who this ‘F’ is that you’re texting with, or I will beat the truth out of you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adding the square "Taking the Bullet" to my Bad Things Happen Bingo fills with this chapter. Mind the new tags and as always, please don't read if any of these make you uncomfortable!

Miles away, Chibs absentmindedly clenched the handles of his Harley as he pretended to watch his brothers pack up for their run. He hadn’t been able to shake off this feeling of uneasiness on his way to the meeting point and more than once did a brother mention that he seemed on edge.

“I don’t know man, you sure you can ride with us? You don’t look like you are paying attention to anything right now, let alone the street”, Tig stated as he leant against his motorcycle that parked next to Chibs’ Street Glide.  
“Worry about yerself”, snapped the addressed son.  
His brown-haired companion merely lifted his eyebrows at that, his gaze falling onto the Scot’s leather-clad fingers that nervously tapped against the metal of the bike’s handle.  
“It’s just a charity thing. No one will mind if you sit this one out. Jax would- hey, are you listening to me?”

Never in his whole life had Tig Trager seen a man almost lay down his bike to fumble out his phone from a pocket. Chibs grabbed for it as if he was a parched man reaching for water, almost dropping the device as he opened the message that popped up on the screen.  
He stilled for a moment, his eyes hectically jumping over the displayed letters again and again, brows furrowing in an attempt at making sense of them.

“What’s going on there?”, Tig questioned as Chibs appeared to be dwelling in the headspace the message had kicked him into.   
“Tha’s from me girl. She sent me… It doesnae make any sense…”  
“What do you mean, doesn’t make any sense? As in, sexy messages with another guy’s name in it?”  
Not expecting to receive an answer to the question, Tig leant over his brother’s shoulder to take a look at the message in question himself. Indeed, it didn’t make any sense as most of the message consisted of random letters and numbers without any apparent sense to them.  
“Don’t worry about it, it’s probably just a mistake or something.”

Before he could turn away, a notification that another message had arrived popped up and Chibs was quick to open this one as well.  
“ ‘Sorry, sat on my phone. Don’t mind it. xo’ “, Tig read out loud while clapping Chibs on one shoulder in an attempt to calm his nerves, “See? Everything’s just fine.”  
“Nothin’s fine”, grunted the black-haired biker while starting the engine of his motorcycle, driving off the scene in such a hurry that Tig barely had enough time to get his feet away from the machine’s spinning wheels.

Having noticed his brother’s general mood and sudden departure, the MC’s president, Jax Teller, quickly jogged over to Tig. “The hell was that about? Where’s he goin’?”  
“I have no idea”, Tig confessed while buckling his helmet, “Something with his girl. I don’t trust him being this upset. Mind if I follow him, boss?”  
“By all means, make sure my VP doesn’t lay himself down”, Jax dismissed, his confusion about the situation apparent on his face. Nodding in acknowledgement, Tig revved up his Dyna and quickly followed the direction Chibs had driven off to, ignoring all speed limits to catch up with the Scotsman.

Following Chibs proved to be a bit of a challenge as Tig didn’t know where exactly they were heading. Considering that the both of them drove at almost the same speed, Tig didn’t actually reach the other until he slowed down in front of an apartment building to carelessly park his motorcycle. Either oblivious or ignorant to the fact that he had been followed, the black-haired man didn’t waste a single second as he headed for the entrance of the building while still tearing off his helmet and discarding it behind himself, somewhere in the bike’s general direction.

“Jesus, Chibs, slow down!”, Tig demanded as he jogged up behind him.  
Falling on deaf ears, the former US Marine grabbed his brother by the shoulder and turned him around as he noticed his hand reaching for the spot of his belt where he kept his Glock hidden beneath the kutte.  
At that move, Chibs snarled.   
“Keep yer fuckin’ hands off me!”  
“Dude, calm down! What the hell is all of this about?”  
“It’s tha’ goddamn–“ Hesitation, only for a moment, and Tig used the chance to stand in front of Chibs and corner him enough to make sure he wouldn’t go shoot at random things or people any second, as his behaviour currently suggested. 

Realizing what Tig was doing and that he wouldn’t quit it before Chibs had explained himself, the younger man swatted away the hands on his shoulders to pace a couple of steps and rake his fingers through his hair, visibly agitated, but fighting for composure.  
“It’s Y/N. Tha’ scumbag boyfriend o’ hers ’s been hittin’ her for months. She’s been playin’ it down, but that asshole’s gettin’ more an’ more violent an’ if he snapped–“  
“Ok ok, I get it”, Tig interrupted, the short summary context enough for him. “Do you know where we need to go?”“Aye”, Chibs confirmed and led the way.

He wouldn’t voice it and destroy Y/N’s illusion of being able to hide the worst of it, but Chibs had been worried about her for weeks. He had noticed the increasing number of bruises and traces of mistreatment, not just on her body but in her personality as well. She jumped at sudden, loud noises, became restless around drunken men – something one couldn’t avoid when working at a bar or hanging out with bikers – and the change in her posture told him enough of what she kept hidden beneath her inconveniently long and warm clothes. Holding on to the perspective of her leaving Dylan in only a few weeks, Chibs held back voicing his concerns, but definitely kept a closer eye and ear on how things evolved between the two of them.  
He feared that Dylan would snap and seriously injure Y/N before she managed to move away from him and into the protection that Chibs could provide. That mysterious nonsense message combined with the following text that sounded so unlike her, raised every single red flag he could come up with.

Slowing down their hurried steps to quietly approach the door to Y/N’s apartment, the two bikers positioned themselves to the left and right of the entrance door and held their breaths to listen out for any noise that could give them a hint as to what was happening inside. Steel blue eyes sought out dark brown ones as nothing but silence laid over the place. Nodding at each other in agreement of how to proceed, Chibs drew his weapon and quickly released the safety. A thought grazed Tig’s mind that maybe it wasn’t wise to let the Scot handle a loaded gun, given how agitated he was, but he trusted Chibs enough to know that jumping the gun, quite literally in this case, wouldn’t improve the situation, no matter what they would find behind that closed door.

Without needing to speak a single word, the both of them knew how they would continue this situation, having been in similar ones before and thus being practiced to perfection. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Chibs was glad that Tig had followed him. He wouldn’t rule out that he would’ve just stormed the apartment and gunned everything and everyone down that wasn’t his girl, hadn’t the older interfered.

Being positioned to the left of the door and in the dark as to what would await them, especially not knowing whether Dylan was armed, Chibs took a secure stance and pointed the muzzle of his Glock as Tig casually placed himself in front of the apartment door to knock.  
Nothing happened, so Tig knocked again. And again. And again.   
Meanwhile, Chibs’ blood ran cold. What if he was too late? Countless scenarios played out in his head, from Y/N being asleep already and actually having sent that message by accident, to her slowly cooling body laying lifelessly on the floor. Even if she hadn’t been beaten to death by her former lover, he tried to push away the thoughts of damage she might survive but would never recover from. Chibs wasn’t sure which option was the worst.  
At the fifth knock, a rustling noise became audible before an irritated, brown-haired man opened the door.

“The fuck do you want–“  
Chibs’ loaded gun was pressed against Dylan’s temple the second he stepped into the doorframe and although this wasn’t quite how this was supposed to go, Tig acknowledged the fact that Chibs hadn’t shot the guy right away.   
While having appeared to be in quite a charged mood mere seconds before, the youngest man suddenly seemed rather cooperative and raised his arms in surrender.  
“Hey man, just chill, you got the wrong guy!”, slurred Dylan, visibly swaying from what Chibs and Tig identified as a serious raid on the booze supply, judging by the smell of Dylan’s breath.

Knowing how to read a situation like this and where to focus, Chibs took one look at Dylan’s raised hands and God knows his finger was twitching dangerously on that trigger. Abrasions, fresh and still oozing exudate, told him everything he needed to know about what had been going on.   
With a nod towards Tig, he lowered his gun and hurriedly stashed it into the waistband of his jeans as his brother drew his own gun and moved Dylan to step aside so Chibs could storm into the apartment, leaving the babbling Dylan with his brother.

He was well aware that storming into an unknown location, without having any intel on what would await him, was generally a really stupid move. But even if he caught a bullet or the likes for that, he knew it would be worth it once he knew Y/N safe and sound with him. During the few seconds it took for him to rush through the small apartment, he attempted to brace himself for whatever he would find.   
Shot, blown up, sodden, rotten – he had seen pretty much all imaginable states a human body could be in, whether alive or dead, before. He could handle this, what ever this would be.  
But in the end, Filip Telford wasn’t prepared for what awaited him in that bedroom at the end of the hallway.

While he had been witness to all kinds of atrocities one could do to a human, seeing the person he loved the most in such a state hit him on a whole different level. It caught him off-guard, leaving him on auto-pilot until his brain understood what he was seeing there.

Chibs found Y/N laying on her side on the floor, apathetic and unresponsive to the hectic sounds that had announced his arrival. Her shirt was bunched up to her chest, revealing angry red and purple marks that colored her side as if paint had been poured over her. Blood oozed from various cuts down her back and shoulders. Her face was covered in rivulets of crusted blood and her neck and throat bore tell-tale marks.   
Her eyes were open but lifeless and so lost in apathy that Chibs wasn’t sure she was still alive.  
“Lass…. come on, talk ta me”, he pleaded as he closed the distance between them and let himself fall to his knees next to her to carefully and affectionately stroke strands of her hair out of her face. 

The heavy haze of the whole situation had her disconnected from reality. Overwhelmed by hopelessness, exhaustion and pain, Y/N shook like a leaf in the winds of a storm. Fear and anger, spiced with spikes of adrenaline, washed through and ebbed away in her to the point where, when she noticed Chibs right before her, she didn’t trust herself that he wasn’t just some attempt of her psyche to protect her own mind.  
His touch ripped her out of it, her consciousness, as far away as it was, still instantly recognising the softness and hurling itself back into the scene at the promise of protection the gesture brought with it.   
In a sudden surge of panicked urgency, she instinctively threw herself against him to cling to his legs, ignoring how her body screamed at her at every inch she moved.  
Like gates, heavy and thick, being ripped open in her mind, all feelings she had tried to shield herself from seethed to the surface. She buried the somewhat unharmed side of her face into his jeans and pushed out a scream from her bruised throat. 

The sound was barely audible, but the emotions in it were all too obvious nonetheless and had tears welling up in Chibs’ eyes as his own tension fell. Leaning over, he embraced her in an awkward hug, shielding her from her surroundings as he carefully pulled her on his lap to keep her close and provide some kind of comfort. Whispering soothing promises against her skin, he tried to catch her as she fell in a seemingly endless pit of panic, screaming and clawing desperately at him.   
When exhaustion finally took over and forced her to calm down, the biker moved to straighten his position and help Y/N move into a somewhat upright posture to finally make eye contact with her. Keeping their gazes locked, he gently rested his forehead against hers, one hand moving to her neck so his thumb could caress her cheek while the other hand supported her position. 

“It’ll be ok”, Chibs reassured, holding back his own tears as he watched her struggle to focus and calm her breathing.  
“Where is he?”, whispered Y/N, panic once again rising in her chest at the thought of Dylan coming back to her.  
“Don’t ye worry ‘bout that fucker, Tig got him.”  
Her eyes remained unfocused for a moment longer until the reality of his words seemed to have settled in. Relieved, she allowed herself to close her eyes and enjoy the warmth of Chibs’ touch, the feeling of his skin against hers grounding her.

Beneath the aches and sharp pangs of pain, Y/N felt like a storm had raged inside her, leaving her uprooted and ravaged. She wanted to believe that it was over, that the worst had been survived and that she would be ok. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but definitely one day, when the wounds on her body were nothing more than faded scars and Dylan no longer lurked in the back of her mind, waiting for a chance to pounce and rip her away from the life she yearned to live.   
“Yer wi’ me? Y/N?”  
Chibs gentle voice brought her back to the reality she hadn’t realized she lost. Her attempt at a nod was instantly punished by a dull but intense ache at the base of her head. 

Noticing that she started to sway a little, the Scotsman moved to create some distance between the two of them to steady her with one strong hand while removing his jacket from beneath his kutte with the other. As much as he wanted to cradle her and hold her close, he understood that they both needed to get away from this place. A hospital would be the wisest decision, but Chibs knew that there was no way she would allow this, the shame she carried unjustifiably being too overwhelming for her. To his own place, the black haired decided then, where he would treat her body and mind until the icy grip of fear and pain that still held her tightly would leave to make room for the solace and sense of safeness he desperately wanted to provide to her. Although he was by no means a doctor, he had enough faith in his knowledge to notice if her condition changed for the worse. And maybe she would allow Tara to have a look at her once the panic and adrenaline left her.  
Then and there, all he could do was to wrap her in the soft, brown leather that bore his scent, hoping that its weight and warmth would provide at least some comfort.

Chibs then supported Y/N getting up and led her towards the entrance of the apartment. With each small, shaky step she took, it became more difficult for him to blank out the rage that still clawed deep in his chest. In mere seconds, Y/N and him both would be facing Dylan again. As overwhelming as the urge to just shoot the guy was, Chibs knew that he needed to be strong and sensible for Y/N. The thought that this was the last time that she would ever encounter him did little to calm him, but it would have to be enough.

Y/N tensed as the indistinct sound of Dylan’s babbling reached her. At that, Chibs carefully nestled her closer against his side, one hand coming up to rest against the side of her head in a small attempt of blocking the sounds.  
“I got ye. Ye got nothin’ ta worry ‘bout”, he promised.  
Turning around the corner of the entrance area, Y/N clawed her hands in Chibs’ sides beneath his kutte at the sight of Dylan being held at gunpoint by Tig. 

The older man, obviously thoroughly annoyed by the drunken boyfriend’s useless attempts at talking his way out of the situation, had meanwhile leant against the building’s wall with one hand tucked into the pocket of his jeans, his right arm loosely pointing the gun at Dylan. His posture reflected the indifference he felt towards Dylan, with most of the tension having left him when things had become quiet inside the apartment. Over the years of calling each other brothers, Tig had found out that Chibs wasn’t one to become petrified in bad situation. So when he didn’t storm right back to rip Dylan a new one, Tig figured the situation would be at least somewhat alright.  
“How’s the-“ Tig began to ask when the couple approached him, but stopped as his eyes fell on Y/N practically hanging on Chibs for dear life. 

Using the brief moment of distraction, Dylan lunged forward and swung his elbow right against the Tig’s nose, stunning him for long enough to wrestle the gun out of his hand and aim it at Y/N.   
Chibs quickly shoved the woman behind himself, effectively blocking the way between her body and the gun. Tig’s angered shout was muffled by his hands holding his nose as he pinched its bridge to stop the blood that gushed out at the hit it had taken. 

“Alright, ok, listen. Take the gun an’ run, we won’t follow ye”, Chibs lied through clenched teeth while he raised both his hands in defeat.  
“As if!”, Dylan yelled in response, waving the weapon between Chibs and Tig in uncoordinated panic, “Turn around! I want your gun too or I’ll shoot all three of you right in your fucking faces!”  
Chibs’ patience ran dangerously low, but he acknowledged the demand for deescalation of their current situation. He didn’t want to expose Y/N to more stress than this shit show already was.   
Reluctantly, he turned around and raised his arms a little higher so Dylan would be able to see where he kept the weapon tucked away.

“It’ll be ok”, Chibs whispered as he faced Y/N. The girl could barely hold herself upright, her whole body shaking with sobs that silently accompanied the steady stream of tears she cried. Against all better judgement, Chibs lost his patience at the sight.  
The second Dylan grabbed for Chibs’ unsecured gun, he spun around and hurled himself at the younger man. 

The struggle between the two of them lasted for less than a second as the deafening sound of two bullets being fired rang through the air in quick succession.   
Y/N slumped to the floor, her hands clasped before her mouth in terror as she watched Chibs wrestling Dylan on the ground. Tig had sprung into action and thus avoided the bullet of the gun that had been directed at him by mere inches. He stomped on Dylan’s hand, effectively kicking his own gun out of the brunette’s hand. Another shot rang, and another, and for a moment, neither of the four people moved.  
Chibs laid on Dylan with one hand around his throat and the other hidden somewhere between their bodies. His shoulders rose and fell with heavy breaths. 

A pool of blood spread beneath the two of them. To Y/N, it felt like forever until Chibs pushed his gun out from between them and rolled off Dylan, letting himself fall to the floor beside the motionless man to take deep breaths. Unable to comprehend what just happened, Y/N merely watched as Tig felt around Dylan’s throat, only to stop with a shake of his head and a murmured “Had it coming, fucker.” 

A pained groan brought her attention back to Chibs, who sat up slowly and shortly examined the tear in his bloodstained jeans over his shin. “Lemme check”, Tig offered, but the Scotsman shook his head and fought his way up to stand. “Scumbag pulled tha’ trigger, almost killed both o’ us”, he explained while limping towards Y/N.   
This wasn’t how Chibs had wanted to resolve the situation, but in his drunkenly state, Dylan had pulled the trigger of both guns. The first bullet from Chibs’ gun had caught his own leg, the other two were less accidental and hit Dylan himself right in the chest. It was sheer luck that Dylan hadn’t hit Tig as well. 

Exhausted, Chibs sat next to where Y/N sat on the floor and pulled her in for an embrace. His strong arms wrapped around her body, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into an unharmed spot on her back as he placed a kiss on her cheek and whispered with certainty, “It’s over.”


End file.
